Find
by Jaeh
Summary: Dean Winchester is a bounty hunter on a mission to find someone important to him. He just hoped the one he was looking for wasn't entirely lost. (AU set in the Star Wars Universe. Not a crossover since the universe is just borrowed and no Star Wars chars make an appearance)
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I am sort of back, ish. I should really update my other stories. Anyway, with all the Star Wars going on, my superstarwars fangirl had been awakened (*snort*) but I didn't want to write about the new movie, so AU it is. You have to have had watched Star Wars (no knowledge of the new movie needed-only the old ones) in order to understand it. Any mistakes mine, thanks to MsPolaPotter for the read through.

* * *

 _Present/17 BBY_

Dean Winchester would like to say that Nar Shaddaa's dark, busy skies made the city look friendly, but then, he would be lying. The smog that seemed to constantly devour the different levels of the city, obscuring lights that could rival Coruscant's beauty. Well, sort of. Making this moon pretty would be like trying to decorate a gorram toilet. No matter how pretty you try to make it, whatever's inside would still be _shab_.

Not that Coruscant would be any different now.

Two years ago, they announced the segue of the Galactic Republic into the first Galactic Empire. Which, hell, it wouldn't be that bad really, in theory. The transition was pretty smooth, since the Chancellor was given his emergency powers, supposedly to help with the Clone Wars; it wasn't all that different. The Emperor had the same powers as the Supreme Chancellor had, except for, you know, more.

Last he heard, there were rumours of the Senate being dismantled _and_ a new goddamn Death Ball-Sun-Star-something or the other. Dumb name for something horrible, too.

They were ruling by _fear,_ and damn if Dean was going to be part of that. So he got out while he could. Sammy could cope anyway, he was better at the job after all - and his younger brother actually wanted the position since he was younger. Who was Dean to let Sam down like that.

He adjusted his hood, making sure that his face was covered. He could not afford to get recognised by anyone. Granted, Dean wasn't anyone _too_ famous among the billions upon billions of citizens in every star system out there. In a funny way, it was safer for him like this. Bounty Hunters are plenty here, scattered on many different levels, and if he looked just like every other mercenary out there, then all the better.

The bar he needed to go to was just up ahead, flashing lights in neon, UV, and other wavelengths announcing where he needed to go. Meltdown Café was just a tiny bit better than Mos Eisley Cantina, and only because it had more actual dust than sand. The air was thick with smoke from spice, death sticks, cigarettes-if you could smoke it, you could smell it. Something chemical wafted as one pushes through the throng hanging around the front door, as the air filters tried to keep the bar smell as neutral as possible. Place was filled as usual, making it great to meet with contacts. Nothing better than hiding in plain sight, and crowds usually only listened to themselves and not the people around them. It wouldn't, however, hurt to whisper.

Dean threaded his way to a stool by the bar. Food and drink was essential to making yourself invisible. Lurk and people notice the suspicious _sleemo_ in the corner. Eat food, be merry, look like you're enjoying yourself? Makes you look like a part of the establishment.

He studied the menu on top which flashed what sort of food they had for the day. Place was known for dianoga pie. Dean was a huge fan of pies, and he would eat almost anything that had the word pie in it, but dianoga meat tastes exactly like what it eats - garbage. Dean wasn't even sure if it was safe for human consumption, but surprisingly when he first tasted it before his stomach did not turn itself inside out.

Unfortunately there was nothing much better on the menu. It wasn't too surprising. If Dean wanted something better he would be better off eating the rations back in his ship.

Dean settled for a bottle of Alderaan beer, instead. At least he knew the beer's good, and the seal on the bottle helps make sure that he wasn't going to die from food poisoning anytime soon. Plus, it was one of the best damn beers in the galaxy.

His contact slipped through the crowd effortlessly. The Half-Bothan wore a sharp, expensive-looking tailored tunic that would get you mugged walking through _any_ level of Nar Shaddaa. Short, sharp horns were half covered by black fur were on his head, and a long, furry, equine tail twitched behind him. He was eye-catching and very much a thief magnet, but nobody approached him.

It probably helped having a Defel called Growley following him around, hidden in the shadows.

"A Tattooine Sunburn would be nice."

Dean snorted. "You're richer than I am, Crowley. Get your own drink."

"I'm giving you free information, Dean-o. Least you can do is to get me a sodding drink, eh?"

"You don't give _anything_ for free."

Crowley barked a laugh. His leg fur rippled in soft, small jerks of amusement. "What can I do for you today? When I received a comm from one of the most… _surprising_ , bounty hunters, I could not help but get curious."

Dean paused, his bottle halfway between the table and his lips. "What do you mean?"

"You had everything cut out for you, did you not? Influential family, mommy and daddy utterly loaded with such high status as well." A smile curled on Crowley's lips. He crossed his legs, revealing more of his furry legs and long tail. One of his hands were raised to the bartender's attention, who simply nodded. The Half-Bothan seemed like a regular. "And yet here you are, slumming it with the rest of the filth of the galaxy, looking for other filth to turn in. It isn't everyday I meet a bounty hunter who had such an _interesting_ past. So what made you, rebellion, or got booted out of the family unit?"

Dean remained quiet, and took a small, measured sip from his beer. He stared at Crowley, his brow meeting together with a furious look. "It's none of your kriffing business."

"Information _is_ my business," Crowley said. "And favors, I trade in favors. What is yours?"

Dean inhaled, and tossed a credit chit to the bartender, and raised his bottle again to show that he wants another round. "I'm looking for someone, and I heard you can help me."

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "I've heard stories about you." Crowley's canines gleamed in what dim light there was. "A hooded bounty hunter with a YT-1250 washed in lines blacker than the depths of the universe with the callsign "Impala" would arrive at a backwater planet, and any alleged jedi hiding there would suddenly disappear. You, Deano, have made nightmarish stories spread throughout the galaxy. I could not be more proud." He leaned forward conspiratorially. "Is this why you left the family? All done with the Force and all that bantha fodder?"

Before Dean could do or say anything that would have had him gutted by the Defel breathing over his shoulder, the bartender slid another bottle of beer to him, and handed Crowley's cocktail over as well. Dean took that opportunity to take a long pull from his bottle and make his anger go down.

"Can you just give me the goddamn information? Outer rim and backwater planets. Anyone with "special" abilities - you know what I mean. Nothing else."

"And what do I get in return?"

Dean paused, considering. Usually, Crowley asked for credits, but this was new. There was no way for Dean to figure out what Crowley wanted. It could be anything from the sewer system layout of his homeworld to the codes of the Emperor's private room in Coruscant. Was it worth it? "What do you want?" Yeah, definitely worth it. Whatever it would be, as long as it got him what he needed, it was worth it.

"You know what I want." Crowley took a sip from his drink. "I deal in information, Dean Winchester. Everything has a price, but not everyone asks for credits."

Dean gave a nod. "And you don't, not today."

"I don't."

"What do you want, then?"

Crowley pointed to a booth across the bar where they could get better privacy. Dean tossed another credit chit to the bartender plus a bit more to cover his drink. The being gave a nod, one arm smoothing down an antennae.

Crowley's Defel was very effective in clearing the way to the booth. The mass of shadow was obvious in the neon lights of the bar as it blocked most light, although whenever UV streams hit the Defel it's fur lit up in blue, green, and orange everywhere, except for the black visor on its eyes. All the bar patrons moved at the sight of the Defel. They knew danger when they saw it, and if there was anything that people did _not_ lack in Nar Shaddaa it was a sense of self-preservation.

Dean slid into the booth first, back to the wall immediately, one hand on the hidden hold-out blaster by his thigh, just in case. Crowley slid in after him. He placed a small circular device in the middle of the table. "Noise dampener," said Crowley in explanation. "With a few modifications. It actively searches for any listening devices within a few meters of the booth, and makes sure that nobody around can hear us. Helps with the noise in this awful place too."

"Just get on with it, Crowley." This was taking too long. Dean would prefer to get a move on as soon as possible. "I have a bad feeling about this."

"I always honor my deals, and I never give bad information," said Crowley. "I've never screwed you over, not once."

"You have bad written all over you, furbag," Dean smirked at the affronted look on Crowley's face, "though I wasn't talking about you. Something doesn't feel right."

Crowley waved a hand away. "Back to our business at hand. I need information on the budding rebel group on Larka."

Dean fought to keep his face blank. A rebel group on his homeworld? He… sithspit. Stars! What the fuck was Sam up to now? Dean explicitly told him not to do anything stupid, to keep quiet and not draw any attention to their family and their planet. "Larka has been loyal to the Chance- to the _Emperor_ , and you know it! We are one of the first few who voted for the Emperor's emergency powers even way back when he was a Chancellor!"

And voted, Dean had. It seemed like a great idea back then, with the Clone Wars and his homeworld ravaged by Separatist droid armies, they needed someone to make decisions for the rest of the galaxy without dawdling. And the Chancellor was very good at it, hell, Dean supported most of his every move.

Until, at least, the war began to wind down and Palpatine made no moves to relinquish his powers. There was a petition going around and Dean wanted to sign it, but his Dad had stopped him, saying there was "kriffing poodoo spilt all over it - don't touch that with a pike, Dean, that old wrinkled geezer has a few tricks up his sleeve; do _not_ trust him." So Dean did not. And good thing too, because after the bastard announced the Empire was established, he started hunting down and intimidating everyone who spoke against the new order.

Dean kept his head down and surreptitiously resigned. Shavit. Pure and utter sith-kriffing-spit. Gorram universe is being shot to hell, and Dean watched the whole Senate applause to it, and he did absolutely nothing or else Larka, not to mention his family, would be in peril. He passed it off to Sam, who could play with the best of them in the Senate and managed to befriend the Moff assigned to their sector. Dean couldn't handle the bantha crap and got out.

Crowley's sharp barks of laughter brought him back to the present. "Oh, Deano, you have no idea what little Sammy has been up to, huh? It's all hush hush, you know. Top secret. Don't worry - I have no love for the Empire either. It's been trying to crack down on business - fear and dictatorship is not very good for freedom in espionage." Crowley's finger played across the rim of his glass, his gaze thoughtful. "Although, selling secrets to the bidders in both the rebel sector and the imperial sector might make everything worthwhile. In any case, I never double cross anybody whom I made a deal with, so. You feed me information about the rebellion brewing in your little home planet, while I give you information on the little jedi I find roaming the galaxy. What do you think?"

"No deal," growled Dean. "Do you think I'm an idiot, Crowley? Kriff no. Go jump off the space station, because I'm not feeding you poodoo, got it? Whether or not there's a gorram rebellion in my own backyard."  
"Deano, Deano. I swear to you. I will make this exchange worth your while. Besides," said Crowley. "I will never give information to the Empire directly. A little birdie whispered in my ear about someone setting up something more… open."

Dean knocked down the rest of his drink as he considered what Crowley was saying. He was confused, to be honest, not certain what he was supposed to say now. On one hand, Crowley is a Bothan - well, a half-Bothan. Their kind thrived on political and economical power. Crowley only refused credits this one time because he thought Dean could offer him something better. Who knows, whatever Dean would sell him might go off to the highest bidder.

But then, the presence of the Defel meant that Crowley usually kept his word. Defels were creatures of honor, and rarely associate themselves with assholes who could not keep a word - and Crowley just said that he wasn't going to sell the information to the Empire.

Dean did not like this one bit.

But he had no choice. He needed to make a decision, and make it _now_.

Crowley, with a wide grin, started counting down. "Going once, going twice-"

"Fine, damn you. I'll do it,"said Dean. Sithspit. Sammy was going to kill him.

"Excellent. Here's a datacard. Everything you need is on here. I believe, the one in Garqi might be the one you're interested in, just a little tip." Crowley slid over a small chip, which Dean pocketed immediately. He pointedly closed the zipper on his flight suit, where he'd placed it.

"This better pan out."

"It will, I promise." Crowley gave a wink. "I always make good on my deals. Right after you give me the information I need over a secure comm line, I'll give you the password." He stood up, and finished the rest of his drink. "Well, Deano, it was nice to see you. You know my number - do call again, eh? I look forward to it. Oh, and by the way," Crowley half-turned, and gestured at a Trandoshan in the far corner of the bar who seemed to leer at Dean. "that lizard head seems to be very interested in you."

Crowley disappeared in the crowd, flanked by his Defel bodyguard. Dean straightened, his eyes on the Trandoshan muscle across the cafe. His hand closed around the small holdout blaster hidden in his suit, and he slowly slid it out of its holster, ready to fire. He slowly got out of the booth, and was immediately flanked by two more Trandoshans, one of whose hands were already resting on his right arm. "I would rethink that if I was you, Mr Winchester."

Shavit. Crowley had basically announced his name earlier into the whole bar, and now everyone knew he was a Winchester. There were no bounties on his head, nothing like that, but the name Winchester had money and power behind it. His parents, his whole family, were very protective of their sons that they would give anything to keep them safe.

Needless to say, a kidnapping would be really, really bad. The Trandoshan was growling something into Dean's ear again, far too fast for him to catch it and interpret what the lizard meant. The way the lizard pushed on Dean probably meant that Dean was supposed to go with them and start moving.

Hell if he was going to go without a fight.

Dean let the lizard push him forward. He faked stumbling, turning the energy into a roll. The blaster snagged as he tried to pull it out of the hidden holster, so he improvised and shot through his suit.

The Trandoshan near the bar went down shrieking. Dean crashed into a Togorian, spilling the being's drink all over his uniform. Oh, frak.

"Easy, kitty." Dean said, backing up slowly. He hit something. Dean looked up. It was the first Trandoshan, and he looked downright murderous. There was shifting in the far corner, and a bunch of other mercenaries stood up and eyed Dean. Great, more of the lizard's friends.

The Togorian pounced.

Dean managed to roll away, and so the Togorian and its huge claws crashed into the Trandoshan. The lizard stepped back, crashing into another table and overturning the patrons' orders.

That did it. The patrons pulled out their blasters and started shooting, and Dean had only managed to crawl around while dodging bolt, occasionally pushing or tripping someone out of his way. Might be a bit cowardly, but he sure as hell ain't gonna let anyone get him. He manages to stumble outside into the polluted Nar Shaddaa air, and curled into a ball in a corner. Dean had arched his back when it counted, and quite a number of beings has tumbled over him. His back felt like something the clone troopers shot for target practice.

But there was no time to breathe. Some of the mercenaries managed to break out as well, and went immediately for Dean. He half-crawled, half-ran to the hangar, dodging blaster shots. Dean took a sharp turn into an alley and pushed some boxes in the way. His back screamed, and Dean grit his teeth. Just a bit farther, only a tiny bit - there!

The Impala gleamed in the distance. The disc-like design was unmistakable and the black patterns shined on the hull. Dean slipped into the hangar and banged his hand on the console, closing the hangar doors and lowering his boarding ramp. He shot the console so no one else can open it, and the ramp stomped in the middle of lowering. "I didn't think that through."

It was within reach, and Dean could pull himself up, he thought. He could dunk himself in a bacta tank to heal later. He slipped across the catwalks and jumped for the ramp. He could hear the hangar doors being jacked open, and just before a few mercenaries slipped through, Dean managed to roll himself in.

He was supposed to have a gunner, but he didn't want to work with anyone. It was too risky. He wasn't doing anything _real_ legal, so he'd rather not take anyone down with him, just in case. So, he'd rigged the laser cannons to shoot using the pilot's console or to shoot via computer intelligence. He'd set it up to watch the hangar door soon as he got in.

The bad things about having plenty of modifications on your ship is that plenty of the controls are rerouted here and there, and it takes a while to properly start up. Dean was definitely going to spend some time in the engineering compartment and the circuitry panel while he was travelling in hyperspace.

He looked over to the hanger. Someone had brought out a missile launcher. Shavit.

His console pinged, signalling Dean that it was ready. He took the controls of the cannons manually for a second, shooting the kark out of the being holding the missile launcher. The Impala slowly raised itself. Dean turned, making sure the exhaust blew off in the mercenaries direction, and punched it off the small moon.

"Kriffin' Force. That was too close." Dean patted his console. "Thanks for not failing me baby. You deserve more upgrades. We'll work on it I promise." Once far out into the dark space, Dean set everything on autopilot, and powered everything down. He turned to his comms, pulling up a secure line.

"Hey Sammy. I karked up. Need your help."

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A/N: Updates every other week, unless I finish chapters fast. Questions about the universe welcome in the comments. By the way, this is sort of what the Impala looks like: starwars . wikia wiki/YT-1210_light_freighter

Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

_8 years ago/24 BBY_

Castiel Nov-Vak had been on plenty of missions. A number of these involve guarding diplomats and their family from assassination attempts, or investigating brutally committed force-based crimes. It was hardly new, and this usually gave him and his master time to study the Force further and do some training exercises, aside from actively investigating the mission and gaining experience. It was never easy, but it was something that he knew how to do and how to get through, and this next one should be as rich and rewarding in terms of learning and experience like all his missions have been.

The Winchester family was one of the richest and most successful in Larka. Politically speaking, they also hold a very high position, as Mary Winchester was a Campbell, and the Campbells were the ruling family of the world. She became the Senator serving in Coruscant, and had been the target of an assassin for reasons unknown for the past twelve years. Her security detail had asked for help, since the attacks had been becoming more and more brutal. The first one had almost killed the senator and her children when the assassin had set the estate on fire, and only due to the quick thinking of his husband John Winchester and the help of his oldest son, Dean, did the senator and her youngest escape the burning building. Ever since, the senator had been under close watch of her own security team led by Captain Bobby Singer, and they had been successfully defending her until the most recent attack where the senator had almost died when someone set a detonator in the family's personal hangar. Plenty of personnel had sufferred.

The Captain had been reluctant to find help, mostly because at first it looked like just another day for the security team. Nobody thought the attacks were even related, until someone realised that recently the attacks were committed every January, almost always on the 24th. The security detail and the local police had been stumped even with thorough investigation, so now it was up to the Jedi.

It was a little frustrating. If they were called much earlier, then the investigation would have gone much smoother and faster, and more people would have been saved. Why do worlds do this often? Don't they realise that fast action and promptness is key? They were here to help, but people have the tendency to call for them when things are potentially or actually too late. His master didn't seem to mind, however. He liked the challenge of being under pressure and still finding time to do something to enjoy their mission.

His Master, Gabriel Aeng'l, was one of the best investigators Castiel knew. His ability to piece together clues and identify which information matters or not was remarkable and consistent. If asked seriously, Master Aeng'l would say that the Living Force was very powerful and would point you in the right direction. Mostly, he would just reply that he was someone "special, honey, won't you like to find out?" which led to lonely nights in their quarters for Castiel, since his Master Gabriel would be sleeping in a Coruscant bedroom of his choice.

The Jedi forbid attachment. Castiel's master insisted that this meant that having intercourse with anything breathing without getting attached was definitely allowed.

Castiel would never understand why and how Master Gabriel ended up as Castiel's master. They were polar opposites- Castiel was no nonsense and took being a Jedi and his missions seriously, while his master...let us just say that he was known as the Trickster in the Jedi Temple. Master Yoda said they would learn plenty from each other, and "balance each other well, you both do." There are moments when his Master's brilliance shined through because Castiel _did_ learn plenty from him. Mostly, he just felt like he was tasked to babysit a whole creche of younglings.

He looked out of the window as their ship entered the Larka atmosphere. The world had grassy, rolling plains interspersed with plenty of rivers. There were patches of forests and trees that Castiel saw in the distance, and small mountain ranges in the distance. There was a big spot of dry, sandy savannah just beyond one mountain range that he can see. According to the mission briefing, the world didn't have weather extremes. It made Castiel smile. He was a fan of temperate climates, nothing too drastic, and he was certain that this world might end up being one of his favourites.

The transport touched down in a docking bay. The bay was mostly open, but was a tarp mechanism that can be extended over the ships in case it snows. The roofs were sloping, made of brick, stone, and durasteel. Open landing platforms were spread around the main building, and pockets of docking bays were scattered throughout the area. Castiel stepped off the boarding ramp with a small backpack, and waited patiently for his master to come out of the ship as well.

Master Gabriel sauntered down the ramp, turning around periodically and waving good bye to a green Twi'lek on board with a wink. The Twi'lek blushed, and she played with one of her head tails. "Good bye, Master Jedi. Hope to see you again soon."

"Good bye Ooyis, and may the Force be with you." Castiel's master bowed to the Twi'lek, and stepped off the ramp. The Twi'lek only had one last chance to wave good bye as the transport raised its ramp and took off.

Castiel frowned at his master. "Really, Master? It did not even take us a week to travel here and you've managed to… _charm_ someone with your nonsense?"

Master Gabriel slung an arm around Castiel, and ushered him to the exit, where Castiel knew a speeder must be waiting for them. He had sent in a message to the Winchester's security team earlier regarding their arrival. "Castiel, companionship is not nonsense. The order does not frown upon fulfilling the needs of the flesh, my dear padawan. Might as well, eh?"

Castiel sighed. "This is why we run into trouble during missions."

"That was one time, only one time and you know it Cassie. I did not know she was married!" Gabriel laughed, and pat his padawan on the shoulder roughly. Castiel scowled at his master's arm.

"With all due respect, for one of the best investigators in the order you can be very unobservant, master. She had a ring on her finger brighter than the twin Tatooine suns. One small probe through the Force and you would have find out that she was married."

Gabriel's grin did not leave his face. Neither did his arm leave Castiel's shoulder, and Castiel resigned himself to his fate. "Cheeky, padawan. You are becoming more like me. It's about time."

Before Castiel could answer, a man approached them from the exit. He wore a checkered, opened tunic layered over a solid blue shirt, and a hat with a visor in front on his head. Brown facial hair framed the man's face, making him look hardened, and his stance was straight and serious.

"Master Jedi." The man greeted, bowing to the two Jedi.

"Captain Singer, great to finally meet you face to face." Gabriel held out a hand to shake, and Captain Singer grasped his hand as well.

"How many times do I tell you to call me Bobby?"

"And I Gabriel, Captain, and yet you bow to me as a Jedi Master. Pretty sure we can dispense with all the blasted formalities." Master Gabriel gestured to Castiel. "You've talked to my padawan before as well, Padawan Castiel Nov-Vak. You can call him Cassie."

"Castiel. Please call me Castiel."

Captain Singer smiled. It did not look particularly mirthful. Castiel had been around Jedi Masters who are very powerful and towered taller than an average human, sometimes with fangs or horns or mandibles. And yet this man's smile and demeanor can rival some of them. There was something about him that did not seem like he would be easily impressed.

The landspeeder was black, and was called Chevrolet. Castiel never understood why vehicles needed to be named, especially a speeder.

It was only a speeder anyway; that didn't need a callsign right? Or did it? Castiel wasn't very good with mechanics. Sadly, that was one of the fields that he never did well in during his temple classes, and it had frustrated him to no end. Knowing how to drive was enough for him. And flying. He was in love with flying. Give him a ship and an airspeeder any day. Just don't expect him to know how to fix it.

The ride to the estate was not very lengthy. They passed by a few green fields and wind-swept grain, slowly turning to brown as summer approached. Castiel desperately wished that they were finished before summer properly arrives. He hated the heat. Their last mission on the deserts of Jakku was punishing. The being they were looking for was found just in time before his ship was eaten by the sinking fields.

The Winchester estate was enormous for a private property. It was almost half of the Jedi temple, but it contained everything the senator would need: her personal home and space, her security detail, her offices, her staff's offices and homes, tutors for the children, places for leisure, and places to stay for the had sloping roofs, similar to the hangar, was built with slate, and the walls was constructed with massive stones. It was backed by a thick, lush forest, and everything was protected by a shield generator guarded very zealously by Larka Militia.

It looked like a security team's nightmare. Castiel said so, and Captain Singer gave him a nod. "It is, but it ain't as bad as it was before boy. When everything you guard is scattered along the continent and the goddamn riviera and your crazy attacker is determined, he may attempt to simultaneously destroy each site, and then you divide your men and figure out it's a force-damned set up. At least this way, everything is concentrated onto one area and you just have one large area to guard and patrol. Besides, learned our lesson that transport from one area to another makes us very, very vulnerable to ambush."

"But you have one huge target, Captain," insists Castiel. "Surely this is much worse."

Bobby snorted. "Hell yeah, but we're fighting against a small group of beings and a strong defence for one area is good. I'll go and divvy up my group if war comes."

They stopped just in front of the personal wing of the estate. The entrance faced the forest, and was flanked by two guards, and a couple more patrolled the area. Captain Singer nodded to some of the guards. "The family will be waiting in the living room. They would probably want to talk to you first," he said. "After they talk to you, I'd like it if we form a strategic plan of action to catch that son of a bitch."

"Thank you Bobby." Master Gabriel cocked his head at Castiel. "I'd prefer if my padawan stayed with the two children. I understand that the senator and her husband are well protected by your hand-picked and most trusted guards, but the children are very keen on outrunning them. My padawan is just their age, and if he changes out of his jedi uniform he would not look out of place hanging around two boys."

The captain gave him a sharp nod, and walked forward into the hall. "S'ppose you'd want him to sit in during our meetings as well?"

"Of course. He is in training, after all." Master Gabriel gave Captain Singer a wink.

The captain did not crack a smile. "Your quarters will be shown by one of the maids later. Here we are," he said, stopping at the foyer's threshold. "Senator Winchester, Mr Winchester, the Jedi."

The master-padawan pair bowed. The family stood up and held out their hands to shake. "Thank you for heeding our request, Master Jedi," the man Castiel assumed to be John Winchester, started. "I speak to you on behalf of me and my family, we are very grateful for your assistance."

"It is our duty to uphold peace in the galaxy." Master Gabriel answered formally.

A grin broke on Mr Winchester's face, and he guffawed, stood up, and slapped Master Gabriel on the back with a laugh. "Gabriel you son of a blaster!

Senator Winchester sighed. "Language in front of the kids, John." She gave Gabriel a smile. "Gabriel, pleasure to meet you. John's told me a lot about you."

"What, this old nerf herder's still talking about me? I didn't think your crush on me can get anymore pathetic!"

"You're a damn laserbrain that's what." Mr Winchester snorted. "This your padawan then? He doesn't look too bad."

Castiel cocked his head to one side, and held his tongue from sputtering. "...too… bad? I don't understand."

Gabriel pulled his padawan in, and Castiel almost stumbled as he was moved. "Yeah, would you believe they actually assigned me someone to _mentor_."

"He corrupt you yet, boy?"

"Stop scaring him, dad."

Castiel turned to the owner of the new voice. He had been so focused on not looking bewildered at his master knowing the senator's husband that he almost forgot the two other people in the room.

The first thing he noticed was his eyes, greener than the forests of Alderaan with specks of golden Jakku deserts. His spiky, dirty brown-blond hair was almost the right shade of Tatooine, with dots of freckles splattered all over him like islands on Dac. And when he reached through the Force, the boy was even more _beautiful_. Colors of gold and green interwoven with pure light shone through his senses, the sense of good so strong that Castiel just wanted to bask indefinitely.

And the boy wasn't even force sensitive.

"Castiel?" John Winchester asked in concern.

Castiel blinked at him. "I apologise. I was not paying attention."

Gabriel elbowed his padawan, and a strong sense of _pride_ flitted through their bond. "See something you like, kid?" He whispered.

Castiel blushed. No, he didn't. He did, but he didn't necessarily liked it. He liked it, but he didn't like liking it. It was too much and he did not want any sort of attraction, no matter how much the man shone like a beacon in the Force. He was so bright, so full of light that Castiel did not understand how he could not use the Force. He wondered what it would feel like if he actually touched Dean's presence. The boy's name was Dean Winchester. Right. Dean.

"I was saying, Cas, that it's an honor to meet you Jedi folk," said Dean with a smug grin. "And I was offering to tour you around the house, but you seem to have been doing a little mental touring of your own. You back with us yet?"

"Ah, yes, that would be um," Castiel coughed into his fist to gain some bearings, "really kind of you. In order to make sure everything is secure."

"It's a date, then."

"A date?"

Dean shook his head with a smile. "Just an expression, Cas. I know you Jedi have a thing about romance or some shavit like that."

"Dean, I am going to make you gargle soapy water if you don't stop using that vocabulary. You should be ashamed of taking after your father's tongue."

Dean only grinned at his mom. The senator shook her head. "Castiel, I suggest you take him up on his offer or he would not stop bugging you."

"Yes senator."

"And call me Mary. And him John. And the Captain, Bobby. This household isn't one for formalities, and we aren't going to start even with jedi here everyday."

"Yes ma'am."

Mary hummed, and looked at Gabriel. "Master Aeng'l, my husband says you are a good man and one of the few people he trusts. Our home is yours and your padawan's. If you have any questions for me or my staff, feel free to ask them. Bobby and his team will assist you with whatever you need."

Master Gabriel bowed. "We'll get to the bottom of this, Mary. I promise."

* * *

A/N: There we go, first sighting of Castiel and his first erm, sighting of Dean. Thanks for reading!


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